Turning, I went back inside and headed to the bathing chamber, where I tugged off my leggings as I had been told they were called. They were thicker than tights but nothing like the breeches. I pulled a pair of those on, ignoring the stiff patches of dried blood as I shoved the slip I wore beneath the sweater into the waistband of the pants. Tugging on my boots, I grabbed a cloak and began fastening the hooks at the throat as I walked under the stunning glass chandelier to the balcony doors. Grasping the handle, I looked over my shoulder to the door leading to the adjoining room. My hand trembled.
I hesitated, looking at Nyktos’s chambers. I thought about the blanket I’d woken covered in. Had it been him who’d done that?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, breathing through the sting in my throat and eyes. I wished he could hear those words and that he believed them.
I wished for many things in those seconds before turning back to the balcony, blinking back dampness. My shoulders tightening, I lifted the hood and stepped out onto the balcony before quietly closing the door behind me, focused on only what lay ahead.
I glanced toward the Red Woods, where the damaged gate once stood. The still-standing crimson trees stood out starkly against the iron sky. Entering those woods again where the fallen gods lay entombed was the last thing I wanted to do, but at least I knew they’d been cleared of any fallen gods. As long as I didn’t bleed in them, I’d be fine. From there, I had to cut through a small section of the Dying Woods, another place I wasn’t even remotely looking forward to traveling through, but it was the only way to get to where I needed to be in Lethe.
Ships entered the city through the Black Bay, meaning they were coming from other places within Iliseeum. I was confident that I could get on a ship and then to Dalos, the City of the Gods, where Kolis held Court.
Because other than killing, there was one more thing I was extraordinarily good at—not being seen.
I caught sight of an armored figure in black and gray patrolling the Rise’s battlement. Pressing against the wall, I kept to the shadows and waited until they were out of sight. Then I sprang forward and didn’t give myself time to think about how reckless this was. There was no time left to wait. I only had a few hours until dawn when someone would eventually come to my chambers. Gripping the cool shadowstone railing, I climbed over it and looked over my shoulder into the empty space between me and the hard-packed ground below.
That was a significant, bone-breaking distance.
Kneeling, I lowered my right and then left leg out into the vast nothingness. Muscles straining and burning like the fiery pits of the Abyss, I drew in a shallow breath and then stretched out my right leg until it felt like my arms would pull out of their sockets. My fingers slipped a little against the shadowstone just as I managed to reach the closest arrow slit.
I didn’t want to think about if those slits had been a necessary addition. Once I was certain my foot was stable in the narrow opening, I lifted a hand from the railing and reached for a groove to grip. My stomach tumbled, then I let go and swung to the arrow slit.
Wobbling a little, I pressed my forehead against the stone. “Good gods,” I whispered. “This is idiotic.”
Planting my feet against the wall, I began to lower myself once more. All those years spent alone, climbing trees, walls, and anything even remotely vertical out of pure boredom had actually paid off. Glancing at the spiral staircase’s railing below, I went for it, swinging myself down.
I landed on the railing and nearly toppled backward. Catching myself, I hopped down onto the landing. A wide smile broke out across my face. Proud of myself and somewhat surprised that I hadn’t fallen to a gruesome, painful death, I wheeled around and hurried down the steps…and right into a dead end.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Of course, I’d chosen a staircase that, for some godsforsaken reason, didn’t go to the actual ground.
Leaning over the railing, I gauged the drop to be about seven feet. Shifting so I could hang from the railing, I said a little prayer to myself and let go.
There was a brief second of weightlessness, nothing but the bright stars overhead, and the rush of air on my skin. It felt like flying, and for a heartbeat of time, I was free—
The impact rattled me from the tips of my toes to the top of my hooded head, knocking a low grunt out of me. I stumbled forward, catching myself with my palms before I kissed the ground. I remained there for a couple of seconds, dragging in deep breaths as surprisingly dull spikes of pain darted through my knees and hips. That should’ve hurt more.
But I did have Primal blood in me.
Straightening slowly, I then took off for the gate, knowing there wasn’t that much time between patrols. Within minutes, the packed earth gave way to the crunch of gray grass, and then I was under the canopy of leaves the color of blood and no longer within view of the House of Haides.
And I was one obstacle closer to fulfilling my duty—my true destiny.
Chapter 6
Killing Kolis wouldn’t be easy.
Obviously.
Even if Kolis recognized Sotoria’s soul—saw me as her—I doubted it would be as simple as me plunging a dagger into his chest. I would have to be sure that he loved me first, and I couldn’t even let myself think about what that would involve as I ran under the canopy of crimson leaves. If I allowed myself to entertain those ideas, I would be vomiting all over myself. So, I filed that away.
I didn’t even know what killing Kolis would do—what kind of impact it would have on Iliseeum and the mortal realm—but Holland wouldn’t have told me what he had if it were something catastrophic. The fact that Nyktos was a Primal of Death must mean there would still be balance.
Until I died.
Which would likely be as soon as I succeeded in thrusting my shadowstone dagger into Kolis’s chest. I imagined that he, too, had draken that would immediately retaliate.
But right now, luck was on my side for once. I entered the Dying Woods without any issues. Probably because I’d run the whole way. The hood of my cloak had slipped, but I left it down as I doubted I would run into anyone in an area occupied by Shades—souls who had entered the Shadowlands but refused to face judgment for deeds committed when they were alive by passing between the Pillars of Asphodel. I had yet to see a Shade, and I really hoped that didn’t change, considering I’d heard they could be bitey.
The muscles in my legs and stomach were beginning to cramp, forcing me to slow as I continuously scanned the thick rows of bent and broken trees. Each breath I drew reminded me of the Rot—stale lilacs. At least there was no ache in my jaw and temples or dizziness. I had no idea how long I had before the mixture of herbs—chasteberry, peppermint, and a whole bunch I couldn’t remember—wore off, and the effects of the Culling set in once more. But when it did, I would have to do what I always did.
Deal with it.
Just like I knew Ezra would if she learned there was nothing to be done about the Rot. We might not share even a drop of blood, but she was resilient. Like me, she wouldn’t give up. Nor would she pretend as if the end weren’t coming, or hope for a magical fix like I knew my mother would. Ezra would do everything in her power to ensure that as many people as possible survived for as long as they could.
According to Holland, she was already doing that. Even if I could never get word to her, she was taking necessary steps—
A rattle from above drew my gaze to the dead, gnarled, and leafless branches. I jerked to a complete stop as a hawk—an enormous silver one—glided through the twisted branches, its massive wings spread wide, slowing its descent. The bird of prey landed on one of the limbs, its sharp, dark talons digging into the dead bark.